The Head and the Heart
by ravarath
Summary: Everything has changed since Pelant interrupted their lives, but Booth feels this loss most keenly of all. (Post "The Secret In the Siege)


**Author's note:**** You don't need to have seen ****_The Finder_**** to understand this fic, but you will need to have seen the episode "The Finder" from season 6 (ep 19) of ****_Bones_****. This is set shortly after "The Secret in the Siege" from ****_Bones_**** and before "The Boy With the Bucket" from ****_The Finder_****. Started off as a drabble but it got a little long. Please excuse any OOCness; this is my first ****_Bones_**** fanfic, and it was difficult trying to structure dialogue that I thought would suit these two characters. **

* * *

The Ends of the Earth looked almost exactly as it had the other times he'd visited: flat boards of painted wood bleached pale by the sun, dusty roads and walkways, and a distinctly grungy atmosphere. Needless to say, it was starkly different to the pristine labs back at the Jeffersonian. But it had an undeniably rugged yet cozy charm, and that suited its inhabitants just fine.

Seeley Booth hesitated at the foot of the stairs. He felt a little foolish to be here at all. Sure, Walter had some pretty impressive accomplishments under his belt. But what Booth wanted- no, _needed_- was almost certainly beyond the abilities of a single man. Finder power or not.

The slam of a door made him jump, and Booth looked up to see a teenage girl dart out of the bar and directly into his path. She seemed startled but quickly regained her calm, looking him up and down with a suspicious eye. "Are you a cop?"

He frowned. She was dressed in a casual, bohemian style that was popular in the warmer seasons. Her wavy blond hair was tucked untidily into a brown knit cap, giving her a disheveled look. But above all, this girl looked young; too young to be coming out of a bar.

"As a matter of fact, I am," he replied flatly. "Let's see some ID."

She rolled her eyes. "Chill, g-man. Walter's inside." Before Booth could stop her, she sidestepped him neatly and disappeared into a trailer parked close to the bar.

He had half a mind to go after her, but the girl's words reminded him of his original reason for coming to Looking Glass Key. With a frustrated sigh, Booth climbed the short stretch of stairs to the door.

It was quiet inside. Booth could hear the soft gusting of wind and the sound of ocean waves through the open windows. Simple things like that went a long way towards soothing a tumultuous soul, and he could see why the man had chosen to settle here.

"You didn't have to come down, you know," Walter Sherman called out, not bothering to turn in his seat at the other end of the bar. "I haven't found him yet."

It was a bit of déjà vu: Walter reclined lazily in a wooden chair, staring fixedly at a chalkboard. This time, however, the words scrawled on it were different: _head vs. heart._

"I know," Booth said quietly. "I just..." To be honest, he wasn't sure why he came. There were countless things he ought to be doing instead back in D.C. But it just wasn't the same. Nothing was. Not since Pelant.

That damned man had singlehandedly ruined it all for him. Bones, the love of his life, couldn't quite look him in the eye anymore. Then there was Christine, his precious daughter. Every time he took her out, every time he put her to bed, Booth couldn't help but look over his shoulder. Wary of the merciless predator who relished in their pain.

There was an urge to quit, a choking desire to run. A silent despair had settled over his life since their last encounter with the self-proclaimed hacktivist, hanging over everyone like a dark cloud. Angela tried be act normal for Bones' sake, but Booth recognized the haunted look in her eyes. Hodgins laughed far less these days, and Booth understood far too well the internal struggle the entomologist was dealing with: he'd very nearly killed a man in cold blood. Hodgins had let Pelant go, but he felt the burden of Pelant's victims heavily upon his conscience.

And Sweets had come within inches of death that day. Booth had to believe it was Providence that let him arrive in the nick of time. But how long would their good luck last?

The truth was, he'd lost a lot- both physically and mentally- since Pelant intruded into their lives. Perhaps that's why he sought out the Finder.

Walter nodded at a nearby chair. He waited until Booth was seated before continuing, still focused on the words on the chalkboard. "You're worried. That's not like you."

He restrained a snort. "I'm an FBI agent. 'Worried' comes with the badge and the gun."

Walter shook his head. "Not like this though."

Booth turned, taking a long look at Walter. The Florida weather had done him good: he looked healthier, more at ease with the world.

The sort of man Christopher Pelant would have no qualms about killing.

"I've been thinking," he began. "I think...maybe I was a little rash when I asked you to find him."

"Oh, I'll find him. No doubt about that." Walter crossed his arms, waving a finger towards the blackboard. "Leo says the head comes out on top. Something about logic and calculation and intelligence."

"I'm serious, Walter. Pelant is dangerous." He leaned forward. "Just forget what I said."

"Too late, big guy," the other man replied breezily. "I said I'd find him, and that's what I'm gonna do."

"Walter, he could come after you. He's killed a lot of people already for this sick game of his."

"Eh," he replied nonchalantly. "I'mma risk it." Booth started to protest, but Walter cut him off immediately. "Do you know why the heart wins?" He pointed again to words scrawled in white chalk.

Booth sighed loudly, exasperated. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I'm serious." Walter turned to face him. "Now, I'm gonna find this guy. Cause that's what I do." He paused for a moment, all the humor draining from his eyes in a heartbeat. "But the thing you're really looking for? What you're _actually_ trying to find? That's up to you."

Booth frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Finding this killer isn't the end of all your problems." Walter leaned back in his chair.

"Are you crazy?" Booth could hardly believe his ears. "That's exactly what it is!"

"No, it's not." The other man stood up, walking over to the board. He picked up the stub of chalk lying near it, drawing a resolute circle around the word 'heart.' "You wanna find this guy because he's killing people. I get that. That's your job. But deep down, what you're really looking for isn't Pelant. You're looking for what he took from you."

Booth froze, dropping his gaze to the ground.

It was silent for several minutes. Walter looked away and towards the windows in an unusual display of tact. "Trust. That's what he stole from you. It's what he stole from all of you."

Booth raised his face, every bit of grief and strain showing plainly in that moment. "I feel like I've lost her."

"You'll find it again."

"How?" He let anger creep into his voice. "That son of a bitch slips through our fingers every time!"

Walter was unfazed by Booth's agitation, running a finger along the top of the chalkboard. "Do you know why I think the heart wins? Because logic and brains can only take you so far." He jabbed a finger at the dusty words, smudging them slightly. "There will come a day when logic will tell you that you can't win. It'll tell you defeat is inevitable, so you might as well give up. But not the heart." He pointed in Booth's direction. "The heart believes, it has faith in itself. That's what matters in the end. That's what you lost."

It was only much later, as he lay sleepless in his hotel room, that Booth began to understand what Walter had seen right away.

They had to find their trust again. Trust in each other, trust in their abilities. He and Bones...they were the center. And the center must hold.


End file.
